going to the sun

By Jacob Glass

By KAVU

July 30^th, 2019

Some plans originate from ambitions of “firstest, biggest, mostest, bestest” and the thirst for the glory from such impressive feats.

At other times, I conceive objectives based upon interesting things others have already done and how much adventure is involved. This was to be the source of my inspiration when two friends and I decided to take the road well traveled by in one of America’s most beautiful treasures.

Glacier National Park encompasses 1,583 squares miles of expansive lakes, glaciated valleys, and jagged cliffs in northwest Montana. Since it's a well known destination for summer travelers, the Park and its main paved road are often congested during these warmer months.

However, there is a period after winter when the weather is fair but, before the the busy season has started. One of the more rigorous preparations is to clear the snow off of Going-to-the-Sun Road, the main thoroughfare the connects the east and west entrances. The Park grants access to pedestrians and bikers to use this road when the snowplows aren't operating and if you time it correctly (and the fickle weather Gods favor your spirit and courage), you can ascend 3200 vertical feet over the course of 15 miles through an immense natural cathedral of heavily forested, broad valleys up to the rugged but still enchanting snow and rock covered peaks.

Furthermore, if you are lucky enough to have a KAVU sky, and descend the 15 miles of curving pavement as the sun is setting, then you will seeing the purest form of alpen glow imaginable. We provisioned our bikes, pregamed by ingesting 5,000 calories of breakfast food, and whispered sweet words of encouragement to our calves and thighs.

time to start riding!

The Team

-Carson: Montanan native, charismatic micro fauna, & master of all ceremonies

-Britta: Visiting German, Sauerkraut Juice Enthusiast, & O.G. paragliding pilot

-Jacob: only invited along for bird identification purposes

The start to this outing was beside a roaring cascade known as McDonald Falls. Although the Avalanche trailhead parking lot is the furthest that motorists can travel, that area was full so we stationed Carson’s faithful Subaru "Esmeralda", a few miles further away and contended with car and RV traffic as we made the first first push.

never don't eat!

Despite needing to navigate the motorized vehicles, we were already experiencing of of Glacier’s most splendid gems. Patches of trillium, bear-grass, lily-of-the-valley, and other flowers created a delightful border between the pavement and the forest. Soon, we reached the gate forbidding cars from going any further and the smiles on our faces reflected true beginning of our adventure. We munched on bananas and granola bars as we pressed onward.

For the first four miles, this alleged “grind-fest” didn't seem so bad. This was only my second time visiting the Park and I was immediately captivated by the scenery. Tall conifer trees hid the steep relief of the terrain that were riding towards and we caught glimpses of the spectacular, sharp heights that Glacier is renowned for. The rocks, which cause a constant but lazy tumbling effect of the strikingly clear water, appear richly multicolored.

American dippers and spotted sandpipers occasionally come into view. At some point, Britta reflects aloud that we no longer can hear the din of motors from the distance. Instead, we hear the wind through the trees, the rippling of the water, and the mellifluous song of the Swainson’s Thrush.

The next thing I know, the only sound I can hear are my quads screaming for mercy.

What I did not mention earlier is that I am a “biker” in a very, very casual sense of the word. Sure, it has been awhile since I have needed training wheels, and I enjoy sprinting around town to run errands, but Lycra simply does not flatter my voluptuous body. After about two miles of the "grind", I am sweating like a portly pig sunning itself on a humid August day.

Meanwhile, Carson and Britta are climbing at a jaunty pace, snapping photos at every vista, and humming tunes from “The Sound of Music.” In ordered to persevere with a more hardened constitution, I needed a moment alone, several seconds of utter despair, and a bar of dark chocolate.

Never don’t eat.

As we continue on with the good fight, we passed by some really neat natural phenomena. Carson pointed out the Weeping Wall, which is a section of rock where water is perpetually flowing as it melts in the high country and makes its way down this drainage.

At a certain height, we gained a stunning view of the valley that allowed us to imagine how a glacier is formed. Then we pedaled beyond the tree line. As a chilling breeze made itself known, we started to take note of the many downhill travelers costumed up in many this layers. Carson said,

“Mmmmm..... I only brought a wind breaker. Should I be concerned?”

We reached the height of Logan Pass elated and traded thick grass and warm air of the lowlands for snow and strong winds. Fortunately, I had stuffed my borrowed paniers (Thanks a bunch, Saara!) with enough winter clothes to outfit a whole host of Christmas carolers.

So, we quickly donned the puff jackets, gloves, and balaclavas. It was early June and we were properly ready for a snowball fight!

After the requisite pictures in front of the summit-sign and some exploring of the frozen north, it was time to boogie.

And boogie we did.

We rolled, cruised, and glided our way down 3200 vertical feet of absolute magic. The sun was casting a pink and honey colored glaze on the mountain slopes, turning the flowers and waterfalls even more sublime. Half way down, I notice what I thought was a turkey. As I get closer, I realize that it is a male Dusky Grouse in full breeding plumage!! This is my first time ever seeing this bird!!! If that isn’t enough reason to bike miles with your "nearest and dearest" up a road to nowhere, then......